


Uneven Steps

by WilliamAnyaScottHolmes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drunk Sherlock, Ficlet, Fluff, Johnlock Roulette, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-23 05:28:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4864826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WilliamAnyaScottHolmes/pseuds/WilliamAnyaScottHolmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a post-case pub outing, Sherlock struggles to walk in a straight line on the way back to 221 Baker Street.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uneven Steps

Sherlock and John giggled tipsily as they stepped into the brisk night air from the cheerful pub.

“Well, that was surprisingly… fine,” Sherlock said, brows furrowed in exaggerated confusion.

“Yeah,” laughed John, “those first few shots certainly helped Donovan skip from pissed-you-solved-it-first straight to fixated-on-Molly’s-new-haircut.” Sherlock grinned at the memory of Molly’s confusion in the face of blatant flirting.

The impromptu pub outing, thought up by Lestrade after a particularly draining case, was a pleasant and lighthearted event. It probably helped that John had been keeping an eye on Sherlock to spot the exact moment before the party transitioned from tolerable to tedious, but everyone’s good spirits and generous spending from a case well solved had created a jovial and carefree atmosphere.

The pub was only a few blocks away from 221b and the chilly early-autumn air was refreshing after the crowded barroom. As they began to walk, Sherlock shivered slightly, reminding John’s cloudy mind that his companion was without his signature Belstaff, which had been delivered to the tailor with a sizable tear from a splintered door frame at the crime scene. Without pockets in which to stuff his hands, Sherlock’s arms swung gently as they walked in silence.

John tried to hide the smile growing on his lips at the sight of his flatmate walking jauntily through the quiet London streets, especially as his trajectory wobbled a bit from the substantial number of tequila shots Lestrade had challenged the group to take. As he wandered a bit closer to John, their swinging hands brushed and Sherlock startled at the contact, appearing confused by their sudden proximity.

John chuckled with affection and smirked up at Sherlock as they kept walking. “Sheesh, if you want to hold my hand so badly…” he said with a mock-leering tone.

Sherlock’s swimming brain seemed to register this comment slowly, a frown forming gradually for a beat until his brows pulled slightly upward. John looked forward with a laugh, amused by his brilliant friend’s lagging mental abilities, when Sherlock’s fumbling fingers, slow from the chilly air, found his decisively, startling the doctor enough to cause his steps to falter. They stood looking at each other, John surprised and Sherlock confident in his analysis of John’s words, for a brief moment before John found his fingers moving of their own volition to better accommodate his friend’s hand. He turned his head away and grinned at the ground, nervous to look up at Sherlock’s face, and bit his lip as he began to walk again, this time at a much more languid pace.

They wandered through the streets this way, wordlessly choosing to take a roundabout route home, neither chancing a look at the other, but both aware of the other’s grin.


End file.
